Читать книгу The Girl Who Lied: The bestselling psychological drama - Sue Fortin, Sue Fortin - Страница 13

Kerry always enjoyed spending time at Apple Tree Cottage. Joe and Bex always made him feel at home. No one stood on ceremony. Their home definitely had a lived-in feel, but one that was warm and welcoming; just as Kerry thought a home should be.

Kerry was in the garden with Joe, watching him fiddle around with the lawn mower. Skip was laid flat out on the grass, basking in the warm May sunshine.

‘Aren’t you fed up that you keep having to fix that old thing?’ said Kerry as Joe made yet another attempt to start the petrol mower. ‘Why don’t you admit defeat and buy a new one?’

‘No, there’s plenty of life left in it yet,’ said Joe. He knelt down and took the cover off the engine.

Kerry leaned against the shed and surveyed the garden at Apple Tree Cottage. Laid to lawn mostly, there were deep flowerbeds either side in which Bex, Joe’s wife, had randomly planted traditional cottage-garden plants. There was a semi wildness about it, much like Joe and Bex themselves, thought Kerry. The rear of the garden was fenced off, a small gate leading to the vegetable plot. Bex embraced the whole home-grown, organic ethos and could often be found tending to the many varieties of vegetables and fruits. Even with the recent birth of their second child, Bex was still a dedicated gardener.

The other side of their garden was home to free-range hens, which Bex had rescued from a battery farm. Only last week, Kerry had helped Joe make another hen house to accommodate the recent additions to Bex’s poultry sanctuary.

‘You’re wasting your breath trying to persuade him to buy a new one,’ said Bex, coming out into the garden. ‘I’ve been telling him for the past two years, but he likes a challenge.’ She smiled as she spoke.

‘I was thinking maybe we should go for the meadow look,’ said Joe, as he picked up a spanner from the ground and began tightening a nut. ‘Is Breeze asleep?’

‘Yes, I’ve just fed her,’ said Bex. ‘She’s gone straight off. It’s hard to believe she’s only a month old, she’s such a dream.’

At that moment, their three-year-old son came tearing out into the garden, dressed in a Superman outfit.

‘Watch out,’ said Kerry, sidestepping the youngster. ‘Superman Storm’s arrived. Hey, buddy, who are you saving the world from today?’

‘Marshmallow Man!’ called back Storm as he raced around the garden, stopping by the path to have an imaginary fight with his adversary. Skip raised his head to see what all the fuss was about, but the warmth of the sun was a more tempting option and he rested his head back down.

Bex turned back to Joe. ‘Why don’t you borrow your dad’s mower?’ she said. ‘We can’t go for the meadow look, we’ve got the barbecue soon and then a couple of weeks after that it’s Breeze’s naming ceremony.’

‘I’m…not…giving up,’ muttered Joe and then cursed as the spanner slipped from the bolt and clattered to the floor.

‘Want me to take a look?’ said Kerry. He pushed himself away from the side of the shed.

‘Nope. It’s not going to win,’ said Joe. Picking up his spanner again and issuing a series of threats to the machine, he set back to work.

‘I’ll take that as my cue to leave,’ said Kerry. He turned to Bex. ‘Shall I take Superman out for an hour for you? I’ll get him an ice-cream or something.’

‘Oh, would you?’ said Bex. ‘That would be great. I’ve got a load of nappies to wash out.’

‘Definitely my cue to leave,’ said Kerry.

‘You can leave Skip here,’ said Bex. ‘He’s no trouble. Won’t be much fun for him sat outside the café.’

‘Okay, thanks,’ said Kerry. ‘Hey! Superman! Do you want to recharge your powers with a bowl of ice-cream?’

‘Ice-cream! Ice-cream! Yes. Ice-cream!’ Storm ran over to Kerry and danced around his feet.

‘That’s a yes, then.’ Kerry gave Bex a peck on the cheek and Joe a pat on the shoulder. ‘Catch you later, cuz.’ As he headed out of the garden, holding Storm’s hand, he called back over his shoulder. ‘You may want to turn the fuel supply on!’

He laughed out loud as he heard Joe curse at him. By the time Kerry stepped out onto Corkscrew Lane, he heard the mower’s engine rumble into life.

Erin placed the bowl of ice-cream, vanilla with strawberry sauce, on the table in front of Storm. ‘So, Storm and Breeze,’ she said. ‘They’re unusual names. A bit like yours and Joe’s.’

‘Blame our mums for that. They collaborated,’ said Kerry with a smile. ‘As for this generation of Wrights, Bex says she named them after her pregnancies. A difficult first pregnancy and an easy second one. Plus the fact Bex is into all that being-at-one-with-nature business.’

‘I remember she was a bit hippy looking when we were younger.’

‘She’s very environmentally friendly, loves nature, makes her own bread and keeps chickens. Very bohemian. You get the picture.’

‘Hugs trees? Protests against urban development and smokes roll-ups?’ suggested Erin.

‘Something like that,’ replied Kerry, smiling.

‘She was a year below me at school,’ said Erin. ‘She’s married to Joe? Neither of them left the village, then.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with that. I like living here, actually. There’s a real sense of community. Everyone’s really friendly.’

‘Hmm, nosey, you mean.’

‘You’re really not a fan of Rossway, are you?’ said Kerry, aiming a spoon of ice-cream in the direction of Storm’s open mouth. It reminded him of the wildlife programmes where the birds came back with little grubs to give to the eager, open-mouthed chicks. ‘Why don’t you like it?’

Erin shrugged. ‘Just don’t. Anyway, I’d better get on. Do you want anything else?’

‘No, I’m good for now. I’ll have something later.’ He held her gaze for a moment, the little smile now a broad grin. He didn’t miss the small flush of colour to her cheeks before she turned away.

‘What you doing two weeks Sunday?’ The question brought Erin to a halt.

She turned to face him. ‘Why?’

‘Bex and Joe are having a barbecue. Didn’t know if you fancied coming. You could catch up with Bex, maybe. It’s all very casual and low key.’

‘I’ll be busy. I’ve got something on.’

Kerry raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? You’ve got something to do in Rossway.’ He could tell she was being evasive. It intrigued him. ‘Come on, you never know, you might enjoy yourself. Or is it that you don’t want to associate with the locals?’ He gave a wink to show he wasn’t being totally serious.

‘It’s not that.’

‘So…,’ prompted Kerry. ‘You going to enlighten me?’

‘I hardly know you, for a start.’

Kerry let out a small burst of laughter. She dipped her head but he could see the smile on her face.

‘Okay. I’m twenty-six. My star sign is Aries. My favourite food is Indian. I like rock music and ride a motorbike. I love the sea and hate the gym.’ He rattled the facts off like a machine gun in rapid-fire mode. ‘Oh, and I was kicked out of the Scouts for setting fire to a tent…by accident, of course. What more do you need to know? Come on, say yes.’

‘Normally, I would say yes,’ said Erin.

‘Just say it, then,’ said Kerry. ‘It’s not hard. Y. E. S. Yes. Go on, give it a try.’

‘I have a visitor coming. From England,’ said Erin. The smile slipped from her face. ‘My boyfriend.’

Kerry hadn’t been expecting that, but then he wasn’t entirely surprised. Why wouldn’t she have a boyfriend? ‘Bring him too,’ he said. Not because he especially revelled in the idea, but a certain morbid curiosity had swept over him. He’d like to see what sort of fella had won Erin’s affections.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Erin. ‘I haven’t seen Bex since I left Rossway all those years ago. She might not even want me gate-crashing.’

‘Bex won’t mind. She’s the most laid-back person I know.’ Kerry lifted the bowl to scrape the last of the ice-cream for Storm.

‘I’ll have a think about it.’

The bell tinkled above the door as two customers arrived. Erin smiled at Kerry, before going off to greet them. Kerry turned his attention to his coffee.

‘All done?’ said Erin coming over to them some ten minutes later. She took the bowl and coffee cup from the table.

‘If you do decide to come to the barbecue,’ said Kerry ensuring a casual tone to his voice, ‘it’s Apple Tree Cottage, Corkscrew Lane, but I’ll see you before then anyway.’ He wiped Storm’s mouth with a napkin and lifted him down from the chair. He pulled out a note from his wallet and gave it to Storm. ‘Here you go, Superman, give the money to the lady and say bye.’

As Storm went to pass the note to Erin, he let go of it too soon and it fluttered to the floor. Erin stooped down and picked up the money, handing it back to Storm. ‘My treat.’

‘Say thank you to the lovely lady,’ prompted Kerry, giving Storm a gentle nudge forwards.

Without warning Storm planted a rather sloppy kiss on Erin’s cheek. ‘Thank you, lovely lady,’ he said.

‘Thank you, Storm. You’re welcome.’ Erin stood up.

Kerry grinned and then, on impulse, he too gave Erin a surprise kiss on the other cheek. ‘Thank you, lovely lady,’ he said.

‘What was that for?’

‘Just being friendly,’ said Kerry, feigning innocence.

Kerry left the café without so much as a backward glance, feeling very pleased with himself. He ignored the small voice of warning in his head. Erin Hurley was complicated, secretive and she had a boyfriend. He should be staying well clear, but never one to walk on the safe side, the intrigue was drawing him in.

Joe’s parents, Max and Louise, were at Apple Tree Cottage when Kerry arrived back with Storm. While Louise cooed over the baby and made a fuss of her grandson, Max took Kerry to one side.

‘You got a minute, Kerry?’

Kerry followed his uncle into the garden and lighting a cigarette each, they wandered towards the far end of the lawn, where the hedge and picket gate segregated the vegetable patch.

Kerry had no idea what Max wanted to talk about, although the troubled look on his face gave him a good indication he wouldn’t like what was coming next. Max pushed his hand into the back pocket of his trousers and pulled out an envelope. He proffered it to Kerry. ‘It’s a letter from your mother. Go on, take it.’ He waved the letter in his hand. Kerry could see his name written in his mother’s hand-writing, no address, no stamp. ‘It came in another envelope with a card for your aunt’s birthday,’ explained Max, as if reading Kerry’s thoughts.

Reluctantly, Kerry took the letter, but made no attempt to open it. ‘Thanks,’ he said, folding it in half and slipping into the back pocket of his jeans.

‘You ought to speak to your mother,’ said Max, not unkindly. ‘It’s been a long time, Kerry. Time’s a great healer and mellower of people.’

‘I haven’t got anything to say to her, and besides, if he’s still about I’m certainly not having anything to do with either of them.’

‘It’s not Tom’s fault your dad died.’ Max absentmindedly stroked his goatee beard, a habit Kerry recognised whenever his uncle was concerned about something. It obviously still pained Max to think about his own brother’s death, even though it was twelve years ago now. ‘You can’t blame him or your mother for it.’

‘I’m not blaming him. I just don’t like him. He’s a tosser, that’s all.’

Not wishing to hang around any longer than necessary, not least in case his aunt should start trying to convince him to contact his mother, Kerry made his excuses and left.

Once he was back in his flat, Kerry placed the envelope on the coffee table in front of him. For a long time he sat there looking at it. Should he open it, if only to see what she had to say? Would she be apologising or would she be berating him?

Kerry knew his uncle meant well, trying to encourage him to patch things up, but after all this time, Kerry still didn’t feel ready to speak to her. He wondered whether he ever would. He exhaled deeply before getting up and going along the hallway to his bedroom. He knelt down at the side of his bed and slid out a shoebox. In it were nine other white envelopes. Each with his name and the same handwriting. His mother’s.

He slipped the envelope into the box, alongside the others, and pushed the box back under the bed. The pain of her last words to him was branded on his heart.